TMNT Then There Was Donnie
by mysteryred
Summary: April reflects on her past in the face of an anniversary that brings her both joy and heartache. One-shot. Apritello. *Nominated in the 2016 Universal Fanfic Comp for Most In-Character Portrayal of a Canon Ally (April) & Most Heartbreaking Tragedy*
A/N: I've been struggling with a little writer's block today so I forced this out. Forgive me if it's not one of my best. A little Apritello…

April held the chipped mug, in two hands, close to her face, letting the steam billow against her swollen cheek. She inhaled the creamy vanilla scent of the tea, could almost taste the apple just beneath, although she'd yet to take a drink. Her hands were still shaking and she bumped the small gash Donnie had taped shut. "Ssss," she winced.

"You could've used stitches. I did the best I could-" He frowned. His amber eyes were glued to her wound, his mouth set in a disapproving line that sent a pang to her gut.

"It's fine. Donnie, it's- it's fine." She put the mug on her table and stood, crossed her arms as she made her way to the balcony.

The air was cool on her face, a nice contrast to the steam that brought the injury to a dull throb. She inhaled deep, catching the scent of grease from the diner on the corner. Just above her was a starless city night, huge clouds shadowing a full moon. Everything around her had soothed her a thousand times over, her home, the scent of fast food, and flavor of her favorite tea.

She turned, crossed the living room taking in all that should bring her comfort and usually in some way did. A familiar chipped mug, the blanket Raph knit her last Christmas waiting on her couch, beside it the picture Mikey had sketched of their family, and next to that the journal Leo had given her on her birthday, and the music box Donnie made her when they were teens…

Then there was Donnie.

Nothing soothed her. Nothing could quell the ache. Because among those personal trinkets were the gifts he'd given her and reminders of those hehadn't.

With every passing day, and there had been many, they were harder to look at; the collage above their, no her, couch, filled with images of their life together. A picture from their prom, the one they never made it to because he'd stopped five times on the way; once to stop a thug from harassing a girl, twice to break up a fight she halfway felt he'd started, another to stop at a gas station for snack where he ended up thwarting a robbery… and finally he ditched the event to go off and save the world with their friends. She'd refused to go with him, knowing the boys could handle it and wanting just one normal teenage night with the boy she liked.

Her Dad had been out of town, so she'd ended up in her yellow tulle dress, alone on her couch eating a pint of Ben and Jerry's.

Then came the tapping on her window.

Then there was Donnie.

Her eyes drifted from the 'before prom' picture, to their engagement dinner several years later. A semi-normal night that ended like most others… in bloodshed. It was at Murakami's that he'd asked her, because the guys could attend. They were all there, Mikey, Leo, Raph, Donnie, him and her. She was between them, her best friend on one side of her, her lover on the other. He'd asked her, she'd accepted, they were eating… then the Purple Dragons came.

Murakami's place was trashed, glass, tables, food it was all turned upside down. When it was over she'd taken him home, to their apartment, and patched him up. When Raph called he left. Then she was alone again, staring at her reflection in a foggy bathroom mirror wondering who she'd become and if she'd ever known who she was to begin with. The girl in the looking glass had changed, a few scars from battles, one in her hairline, another on her chin. Her eyes were a strange, lonely shade of blue that she couldn't look at too long in fear of losing herself trying to remember who she was meant to be. She was her own constant company…

Then came a tapping on her window.

Then there was Donnie.

Her gaze lingered on Donatello in the engagement picture, his beautiful amber eyes pained, the smile on his mouth was not his real one. She could tell by how the corners of his mouth didn't quite reach all the way, they'd even waivered a bit. He'd been so quiet that night, held her as she cried although she never explained why she was falling apart and bless him because he never asked.

Then came the wedding photos. They'd been officially married at the courthouse, before meeting up with the Hamatos at the house in North Hampton. There Master Splinter had married them again before their friends, their family. Donatello had stood beside her, Raph beside him.

There was that facial expression again. It was in those pictures and so many others.

Where had Donnie been after the wedding ceremony? He'd been missing most of the day, until the newlyweds had their first fight as a married couple. Her new husband had complained he was bored, he and Raph wanted to drive back and patrol. At the height of the argument she'd said horrible things she wasn't entirely sure she didn't mean. He'd left, and there she was sitting on the porch listening to the cicadas, tree frogs, and the sound of her own beating heart.

Alone with her thoughts once more.

Then the screen door shut with a delicate click.

Then there was Donnie.

The next photo brought a smile to her face at the same time hurt like a tessen to the jugular, because there were so many moments of joy intermingled with the height of her depression. She remembered buying the tests, taking at least five to be certain. She remembered telling him the news, their news. Then was floored by his less than thrilled reaction. He'd spent every night for the next week out with Raph, every morning gone before she'd awoke, and coming home after the sun went down only to leave again.

It was several months, after bouts of morning sickness, attending doctor's appointments alone that she'd had all she could take and cornered him. It was then, after knowing him for as long as she had but knowing so little about his past that he finally spilled.

A knot rose in the back of her throat. It was never that he didn't want her, or their little one, but it was always that he didn't think he was good enough. He didn't want to be like his father, and he was so afraid he'd lose his temper. When she'd tried to console him he'd gotten embarrassed, disguised it with anger, and left.

Then there she was on the couch with a big belly, crying in her Ben and Jerry's with a side of dill pickles.

Then there was the creaking on her fire escape.

Then there was Donnie.

The next pictures made her the happiest, yet hurt the worst. He wasn't in any of them, nor was her father. The remainder of the collage was filled with members of the Hamato clan, she, and her baby daughter. All that remained of her family. Twelve photos, one for every month of her infant life. Her birthday would come tomorrow, the anniversary of it all, and they'd take another picture. She closed her eyes, felt the pressure building in her chest and face.

His voice was a low, sweet sound that needled its way through her, stopping like a thousand pinpricks to her heart. "You can't keep doing this, April."

She swallowed hard, choked out her reply. "I know." She pulled her arms tighter around her, shivered although it wasn't cold.

He stood so close, she could smell him, balsam and something more chemical, probably a substance he'd been messing with in his lab. "It wasn't your fault." He reassured her, the way he always did.

But of course it was.

If she hadn't gone into labor at work, and waited until the baby was ready to come-

Her dad had picked him up, they'd been rushing –

If they weren't rushing they'd still be there.

They'd know her.

Tentative green fingers brushed her knuckles. She opened her eyes, realized she was gnawing on her fist, tears slipping down her cheeks. Donnie was in the most pictures of anyone, but they weren't in that frame, they were in the stills of her mind. There was no proof of them, no evidence. There was no one to take a picture. Because every time she'd been alone, he'd come, he'd held her, and it was just them. She remembered those moments more vividly than anything anyone could put in a display. They were held in a different place, one that even the man she married had failed to occupy, because he had seldom been there.

Her fingers curled over his, then she leaned her cheek into his palm, closed her eyes and wept. He pulled her close, held her gently, and kissed the top of her head. "I brought you a pint of Ben and Jerry's," he whispered.

She let out a feeble attempt at a laugh. "How'd you manage that?"

"Karai." His lips were to her hair, her arms wrapped around him as far as she could reach. "Want to sit awhile?" he asked. "We don't have to talk if you don't want. Or we can if you do."

She sniffled, wiped at her face then went right back to clinging to him. "I'm so tired, Donnie."

"I know."

"She looks more like him every day. She started walking this week, and she says," April let out a weak laugh, "she says Raph. God, he'd be so mad." More tears slipped away, she wiped at them with the back of her hand. "Her birthday's tomorrow."

"I know."

Of course he knew. He was Donnie.

She nodded. "Yeah." She took a shaky breath, knew she should talk to him about what Leo had told her earlier, but didn't feel up to it yet she tried anyway. "You know-"

"I know, April. I know she calls me Daddy because she calls me Daddy. I know you called into work today, went out with Raph tonight while I babysat thinking you were working late, and I know-" he guided her to face him put a finger under her chin, "I know you are becoming for her the very person he was to you, and I'm here to tell you to stop. Don't run from this. It's over, it's done, there are no take-backs, no do-overs, and you're not alone, April." He shook his head, his eyes becoming glossy. "You never have been. Never." He leaned close, his gaze darting over her face, from bruised cheek to parted lips. "You never will be."

She never had been.

And for every time he'd brought her a consolation treat;

Wrapped her in his arms;

Held her while she'd cried;

Listened to the words flooding from her heart;

He'd never not come, he'd never turned her away, and he'd never complained.

It was when they'd buried him, that horrible night she'd crawled into their bed and felt the emptiness on one side that she'd first brought Donnie to his place, desperate to fill the gaping hole threatening to consume her.

And he was willing to let her use him that way.

But that night something changed.

She realized that every second, of every hour, for each passing minute over the many, many years he'd been trying to show her that he felt for her exactly what she'd been trying to pry out of Casey Jones. Donnie was there, ready, and willing to give her everything he could no matter how little or impossible that was.

But it had been too soon, and she'd been afraid to take it.

Still, he stayed.

He was there for feedings, diapers, cleaning, and got her through being so wiped out her face fell in her cereal bowl.

"You can't keep doing this, April," he repeated.

"I know." She nodded, looking him in the eye.

"So you'll stop?" he asked.

She stared at him, blinked and felt a calmness wash over her. He was right there, always. Why was she running? Where was she fleeing to and from whom; a ghost, someone who was gone most of the time while he was alive, and was never coming back, could never come home to her or their daughter? "Donnie, do you think it's wrong if I let him go?"

Donatello shook his head. "No, April. But I don't think you're every really going to let all of him go." He pulled her closer. "And that's okay, because you've got the best piece of him sleeping down the hall."

Her vision blurred. "I need to ask you something."

He wiped away her tears. "Anything."

"Would you-" She looked away then quickly back to him. "Would you want to maybe-" She let out an exasperated sigh. She had no right to ask anything more of him. All she'd done was take and take.

She stretched on tiptoe, so her fingers could reach his cheek. She ran them along his beautiful tea-colored flesh, cool, slightly pebbled, yet as normal for her to look upon as any human but he was so clearly not. He inhaled as she reached for the amethyst tails of his mask gently guiding him closer. He trembled in place like a hummingbird and a soft giggle slipped out amid her tears. Her lips were tingling as she leaned forward, gracing his sweet mouth with hers.

His arms slipped around her, three fingers sliding through her hair. He kissed her again, lightly, before resting his brow against hers as he gazed into her. "Just say it, April." His words were pleading, her heart pounding, then his eyes filled and her breath hitched. "I've waited a long time-" His voice broke, and he swallowed hard, his mask bunching between his eyes. He thought for a moment, then nodded as if affirming to himself. "I thought maybe you never would, never could, but if you do, say it, mean it, and I'll never let you down."

She couldn't see through the rainfall running down her face, wondered why she hadn't told him sooner except that she felt it was wrong, too soon, and that she didn't deserve him. But he'd let her go way out in a big circle that began and would end with him. It was always him.

"Donatello, I love you, and I want you stay forever with me and Cassie. I want us to be together, for always." She choked on a sob, before managing to add, "Please?"

He surprised her when his breath ghosted her lips and she could almost taste him all over again. "April O'Neil Jones, we'll make a Hamato out of you yet."


End file.
